Tag Archives: american

You have a piece of bread covered in peanut butter on one side and another piece of bread covered with jelly on one side. Slap the two together and you have yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich is the official stereotypical dietary staple of American childhood. One mention of PB&J and you automatically conjure up images of opening your lunchbox and seeing a lovingly-prepared peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the crusts cut off. It doesn’t matter if you never cut the crusts off, or had a lunchbox, or even ever actually had one because pop culture has groomed us to accept them as a part of our past. Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are a part of us. To deny that is to deny how the world views America. They are as American as apple pie, hot dogs, burgers, beer… that’s a lot of food… and um, oh yeah, motherfucking guns. You can’t spell ‘Murica without PB&J. You know that’s true because you’re reading it on the internet.

Like this:

It’s summertime again and that means that my workplace has been flooded with dozens of Europeans with J1 Visas. They stay in the U.S. for a couple of months, work hard and party harder, and then go back home to their various countries. They all speak English as a second or third language, but most of them have different dialects and delicious accents. They speak Russian, Gaelic, Croatian, Slovak, you name it. They are awesome to hang out with, so of course I hang out with them. And I’ve become an unofficial translator.

I can’t speak Russian, Gaelic, Croatian, or Slovak. I speak J1. It’s like English but a lot slower and it involves a lot of hand gestures. You have to be able to explain things in a relatable way. One of my J1s went to get a tattoo and had to fill out paperwork. Initial here, here, and here, signature here. I had to tell her what her initials were and what to write. I went shopping with another J1 friend and the salesman made a pitch that he didn’t understand. He asked the salesman to repeat himself to me so I could decipher the message and relay it back to him.

I’m not saying that Europeans suck at English. I’m saying that Americans suck at English. They use fancy and proper words. They say advocate instead of lawyer. They spell color like colour. They add the U. Fancy. Proper. Americans have dumbed down the English language, so that even when Europeans say something right most Americans can’t understand what they are saying. That’s where I come in. I can turn casual speech into proper speech and vice versa so that a more cultured society can understand our primitive selves. It’s enough to warrant myself as an unofficial translator. I’ll take it.

Both of my parents are multiracial and I am a mutt, a mixed breed with multiple ethnicities. I don’t look white. And I’ve noticed that if you aren’t white or black, it’s apparently an open invitation for people to ask what race you are. What the fuck does it matter? I’m American. That’s where I’m from, that’s what I am. Unless you are a census taker, you should never ask someone what ethnicity they are. You shouldn’t even care. That’s why Latinos and Asians never ask white people what ethnicity they are. Because they don’t give a fuck. It doesn’t matter what a person looks like. You wouldn’t ask an elderly lady how old she is. You wouldn’t ask a guy in a sailor suit if he’s gay. So why would you ask what race someone is? Don’t be a census taker. If you’re going to be asking personal questions, ask about hobbies, goals, and dreams. Not about the color of my skin.